Love, Trust, and Secrets

Chapter 1Dying was something you could do on your own. At least that’s what Jarod had thought when he first became a nurse. But after today, he no longer believed that. Mr. Larsen’s doctor had warned him. But the man had proclaimed he’d choose cigarettes over life. At that moment, Jarod had realized when Mr. Larsen died, which he surely would if he continued on the track he was going, he wouldn’t be the only one to crash and burn. Nope. He’d take his entire family with him. Jarod’s chest tightened. Once the declaration had been made, the man’s wife, inconsolable, had grabbed on to Jarod for support. The memory was more than Jarod could handle right then. He’d gone into nursing to help people, not to simply be there to pick up the pieces of the family when their love ones were on a crash course with death. A course they had a chance to avoid with a simple change in lifestyle. “Fuck.” Jarod’s head spun. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so helpless. He loosened his too-tight grip on the steering wheel, and shut off his truck. His eyes focused on the blaring blue sign in front of him. Briefly, he thought about heading home, but he didn’t think the few beers he had in his refrigerator would be enough to get him through the night. Not the way he felt. Then he’d also have to deal with being alone. Alone with his thoughts. With renewed determination, he took a deep breath, jumped out of his truck, and slammed the door. As he moved closer to the bar entrance, the noise from inside invaded the silence. That, along with a few drinks, would hopefully be enough to numb his brain. At the entrance, he spotted three twinks, not looking old enough to frequent the bar, hanging all over two solidly built tattooed bouncers. Their gazes and hands roamed all over the big men’s bodies, as if in the midst of foreplay. Jarod’s c**k twitched, and his heart beat faster. Any eye contact would signal his willingness to join in. Another night and he’d jump right in the middle. This night, he strutted with purpose past the stunning group, with his focus on the door. Inside, the warmth of bodies surrounded him, and the bass of the music pounded through his body. Unfortunately, the combination wasn’t enough to clear his mind. Not paying attention to his surroundings, Jarod stumbled into two men holding each other and moving slow next to the dance floor. “Sorry,” he mumbled as he pushed by. Once out of their way, Jarod stopped moving. His throat constricted, and he had to make a conscious effort to breathe. It almost felt as if a piece of him had died. Again, his patient’s family invaded his headspace. Dammit. He fisted his hands as his muscles tensed. He took a deep breath and willed his mind and body to relax. Time to let go and move on. And that’s exactly what he planned to do, with a Jack and cola, or better yet, a bottle of Jack and cola. The cloud of smoke billowing off the dance floor, combined with the dim lights, made it hard to find a spot to settle. About to head toward a table, Jarod noticed an opening at the bar. He pressed through sweaty bodies, en route to it, and made it to the bar just as another guy tried to move in. The guy muttered a curse, and Jarod offered a sympathetic smile. Again, he could’ve offered to buy the guy a drink—he looked hot and definitely doable—but Jarod needed to put a little liquid relaxation in his body before starting any conversations. Jarod waved to the bartender just as something hit his side, causing him to turn around. Dark eyes, wide open and full of fear, met his. Ready to ignore the guy, Jarod glanced back at the bartender. The man sitting next to him grabbed Jarod’s arm with shaky hands. Jarod turned again, this time noticing his pale complexion, dilated pupils, and the pulse in his neck beating erratically. Jarod stopped and watched him. “He put something in my drink. Please, help me.” Jarod stared at the guy. It took him a moment to register what the guy had said and understand what he’d meant. Another man walking up behind them—the man who’d moments ago vacated the spot where Jarod now stood, the man who now glared at Jarod with hate in his gaze and a sleazy smile on his face—confirmed Jarod had heard the guy sitting in front of him right. “Tyler, come on, we’re getting the f**k out of here.” The man’s voice sent chills down Jarod’s back and caused the frightened man’s eyes to open wider. The other guy’s increased fear pushed Jarod into action. Before Jarod thought through what he would do, he found himself smiling at the man he now knew to be Tyler. His features relaxed. Jarod took that as acceptance and threw away all rational thought. He put his hands on Tyler’s thighs. “Tyler, sorry I’m late.” He rubbed up and down the man’s legs, grateful not to encounter any flying fists or beer bottles hitting his head when he did it. “Got stuck on my way over. There was an accident on Four-Ninety-Five. Had to stick around until the cops came to take my statement.” Out of his peripheral vision, Jarod could see a mask of anger come across the sleaze’s face, and with renewed inspiration, Jarod leaned in. This is it. He put his lips on Tyler’s forehead. From there, he moved to one cheek, then the other. So far, so good. His heart beating out of his chest, Jarod headed for Tyler’s lips. About to make contact, Jarod froze. Tyler’s hands, no longer shaking, framed Jarod’s face. Jarod brushed off his surprise, and continued to move toward his target. The softness of the man’s lips, surrounded by the slight roughness of leftover growth, did more to Jarod than it should have. His tongue begged for freedom, and his c**k followed closely behind with the same request. Down boy. Before he was ready to, Jarod pulled back. The smile on Tyler’s face told him he’d done the right thing. And the rage on the other guy’s face, before he stormed toward the exit, confirmed it. Adrenalin pumped through Jarod’s body. He needed to know what’d just happened. He was about to ask when he noticed Tyler with his head down, resting on his crossed arms. The bartender came over and glanced at Tyler, then at Jarod. “Everything okay here?” “Yeah, can I get a Jack and cola and a water?” Not moving, the bartender glanced at Tyler, then at Jarod again. “You sure?” The look in the man’s gaze told Jarod he wasn’t asking about the drinks. f**k. Jarod hesitated, not sure exactly what to say, because really, was everything okay? Jarod didn’t know. Before he could form an answer, a low crackling voice floated into the air and saved him. “Yeah, it’s all good. The accident made him late.” The bartender smiled. “Okay, I’ll be right back with your drinks.” Jarod let out the breath he was holding and took another as he watched Tyler. Neither moved until the bartender came back. He put down the drinks. “We haven’t had a chance to check if we have any Long Island Vodka. Do you still want us to, or are you okay with Jack?” Only hearing the bartender’s words and not thinking what they meant, Jarod’s focus remained on Tyler. “Jack’s fine,” he said. Once the bartender left, Jarod placed his hand on Tyler’s and put his mouth next to the man’s ear. “Can you talk? Tell me what’s going on?” Confusion and terror filled Tyler’s wide-open eyes. Jarod’s chest clenched. The need to help this guy held his brain hostage. He needed to find out the story in which he’d just played a role, and the bar wasn’t the best place to do it. He held out his hand. “Let’s go to a table. We can talk with more privacy.” Tyler grabbed Jarod’s hand without hesitation. Electricity sparked in their touch. They sat at a corner table, away from the dance floor and the crowd. “That guy put something in my drink. I was too stupid to notice. He talked to me at the pizza parlor. He said he knew me from college, but I wasn’t sure if I recognized him. I didn’t want to be rude and say I didn’t.” Tyler’s words were slurred but coherent. “We came here. He said he needed to meet his boss to get his check, but hated walking into a bar alone. I told him I’d stay for one drink. One f*****g drink.” Tyler’s voice rose as he spoke, and they began to attract unwanted attention. Maybe he’s confused, Jarod thought. “Do you know how long you’ve been here? Maybe time got away from you.” “No, I just got here.” Tyler was adamant. “That beer was my first drink.” “Where is the beer? We can check if there’s something in it.” “It was a Bass Ale.” Jarod glanced at the bar when a clear picture of “sleaze boy” picking up a bottle of Bass and stomping away clicked into his head. Okay, suspect walking away with the evidence? Or pick-up gone bad and walking away with his beer? f**k. Jarod glanced around the room as if it could give him answers while he tried to think of what to do. When he looked back at Tyler, he froze. The man had turned white as fresh snow, and his hands shook. “You look like you’re about to be sick.” Jarod’s concern went up a notch. “You want me to take you to the john? If you get some of the alcohol out of your system, you’ll feel a shitload better.” “I didn’t drink anything. Only that beer.” Tyler’s demeanor became agitated. He dug into his pockets as if trying to find something, and pulled out a wad of cash, which he threw at Jarod. Jarod was startled. “Don’t want your money. Haven’t a clue as to what the hell is going on here.” All he did know was he didn’t want to be a part of it. Drunk guys weren’t his thing. “Is there someone I can call for you? A cab? Have to make it quick though. I have someplace I need to be.” At the bar, by myself, with my drink. “Look at the receipt. The receipt. It’s in there.” Tyler pointed at the pile of cash. His slurring worsened. Not sure what was happening, Jarod flipped through the bills, where he found a receipt dated a half hour earlier for the pizza parlor around the corner. So if this part of Tyler’s story’s true, the part that he wasn’t drinking probably is. That means, more than likely, the part about someone drugging him is too. Oh, f**k! “You have to call the cops.” Tyler’s complexion passed “pale” and traveled right to “transparent.” His grip on the table turned white-knuckled, and tears escaped his eyes. “Please, you can’t. Please don’t call the police.” His words were rushed but strong. Jarod mentioned the next option. “Then we have to get you to the hospital.” “I can’t. I can’t. They’ll find me. Please just get me home.” There was a shiver in Tyler’s words. He seemed ready to bolt. His gaze darted around the room, and his body trembled. “I’ll be fine. I just need a cab.” He tried to get up. Leaning into the table, he stumbled off the bench and over a chair. Jarod grabbed Tyler, steadying him, then helped him sit again. “Who’s going to find you? The guy who slipped you that s**t is gone.” At that moment, Jarod realized what the bartender had said earlier. He had asked Jarod if he still wanted vodka, the vodka “sleazy” must have ordered. The bartender had thought Jarod was the same guy Tyler had been with earlier. So if Tyler were to cause a scene making his condition known, the bartender would think Jarod was the one responsible. He needed to get Tyler to some place safe, or talk him into going to the hospital. And right then, he wasn’t sure he could. There was only one way to handle the situation. HIs mind made up, Jared stood, peering at Tyler, who appeared beaten. Jarod’s stomach clenched. “Come on. Let’s take you home.” Tyler’s face was wet from tears. “Thank you.” His words sounded as if he were sinking in quicksand. Instead of fighting with himself about whether he was doing the right thing, Jarod just held out his hand and put all his focus on getting the man home and making sure he could take care of himself. Outside, Jarod held onto Tyler as they moved through the multitude of cars in the parking lot. Jarod guided him behind the building, to a patch of dirt. “Come on, we’re going to get you to throw up. Clean out your system.” “Can’t.” “You can. Come on. I’m going to help you. I’m right here with you.” “Who are you?” Tyler stared at him. “I’m Jarod. Your saving grace.” “Saving grace?” “That’s right. And for part of that saving, I need you to get everything out of your stomach.” “I can’t.” Tyler whimpered. “If you don’t, I’m taking you to the hospital.” Jarod watched in confusion as Tyler’s body shook. Why does going to the hospital scare him so much? “Come on, let’s do this.” “I don’t know if I can. Really,” Tyler whispered. “I’ll help you.” Jarod repositioned himself. “Kneel right here.” “Trying.” “You got it. I’m here if you don’t.” Jarod held onto Tyler as he moved. “Okay.” Once on his knees, Tyler bent over. Jarod took a deep breath. Now for the fun part. “Point your finger.” After a few seconds, Tyler did as told. Jarod took the man’s hand and pushed the extended finger into Tyler’s mouth. His reaction was instant. He choked. Jarod forced him to keep trying, and it took less than three minutes for them to reach pay dirt—or in this case, pay puke. With everything out of Tyler’s stomach, dry heaves racked his weak body. Jarod remained crouched next to him, rubbing his back. Jarod knew they hadn’t gotten out all the drug as Tyler already suffered its effects, but getting out some of the drug was better than getting none. Jarod helped Tyler stand, and walked him to Jarod’s truck. Once there, Jarod situated Tyler against the rear quarter panel so he wouldn’t fall, then opened the door. Jarod grabbed a bottle of water from the back and handed it to Tyler to rinse out his mouth. Done, Jarod tucked Tyler into the passenger seat, then walked around to the other side and climbed in. Jarod found Tyler breathing steadily, his eyes closed. Soft snores echoed through the small space. Jarod rubbed Tyler’s arm. “Hey, Tyler, I need your address. Where am I taking you?” Tyler didn’t answer. He didn’t make a move. “f**k. You had to fall asleep? Couldn’t wait thirty seconds to tell me where the hell to go?” s**t. With only one option, Jarod searched Tyler’s pockets, checking for identification to tell him where the man lived. He found only the money and pizza receipt. Not even a phone. But even if there were, what good would that be? Would Jarod have called one of the random contacts? It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t have a phone. Still not sure what to do, Jarod thought to take Tyler to the hospital. But since Tyler seemed to have a steady heart rate with good breathing, and the fact he’d puked up whatever remaining drug hadn’t hit his system, Jarod didn’t think the hospital was necessary. He knew from firsthand experience, now that Tyler’s stomach was empty, they couldn’t do anything without knowing what drug had been used except pump him full of fluids. And then, Jarod remembered Tyler’s terrified reaction about going to the hospital. If Jarod brought him there, it might actually do more harm than good. f**k. Jarod’s only thought now was to get Tyler somewhere safe where he could keep drinking fluids until everything flushed out of his system. And that meant, with the state Tyler was in, Jarod had only one choice. One he didn’t like very much. Jarod started his truck, pulled out of the parking lot, and drove as fast as was safe. * * * * Jarod reached his destination, with Tyler never moving. Watching the peaceful man, Jarod couldn’t wrap his mind around what the heck he was doing. Why hadn’t he left this guy at the bar, left him to be someone else’s problem? No instead, he’d let the other man’s obvious fear get to him. Why the hell is he so scared? And why does it matter to me so much? He knew the answer immediately. Because the man had asked for Jarod’s help, and Jarod wasn’t one to turn down anybody. Especially someone who’d acted as desperate as Tyler. Jarod stepped out of the truck and strode to the house. Once he unlocked the door, he headed back to the truck to gather his belongings, which now included one passed-out guy. With some cajoling, Jarod roused Tyler enough for the man to help with the walk to the guest room. Jarod’s first priority was to make Tyler comfortable. Jarod helped the still-half-asleep Tyler get off his coat and shoes. As soon as Jarod put him into bed, Tyler curled into a little ball, appearing helpless. Jarod fought against wanting to stay in the room with Tyler, it was important he check Tyler’s vitals. Jarod moved into his own bedroom, opened his closet, and pulled out his medical bag. Then he rushed back to the guest room to find Tyler hadn’t moved. Jarod’s mind was set—if he found anything out of the ordinary, he would take Tyler to the hospital, regardless of how much the guy begged him not to. Tyler being okay was more important than any fear he might have. Thankfully, Tyler’s blood pressure was normal, and his pulse strong and steady. Jarod breathed a little easier. The next step would be to pump Tyler full of fluids to flush the remaining drugs out of his system. With Tyler appearing to be comfortable, Jarod headed to the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of cranberry juice. He diluted it with water. A scream echoed through the house. Jarod raced into the room. But the sight before him stopped him dead in his tracks. Tyler’s pants were bunched around his ankles, while he stroked his c**k as if his life depended on it and tears streamed down his face. Stunned, Jarod gaped, not sure what the hell was happening. The thought that this whole thing might be a setup crossed his mind one second before Tyler shot off like a geyser. The pained expression that crossed his face confused Jarod as much as the entire situation. “What the hell—?” “It hurts. Oh, God, it hurts,” Tyler screamed, his anguish evident. Stupefied, Jarod continued to stare. Tyler’s c**k—red, angry, and still hard, even after just shooting a load—remained gripped in his hand. What the hell is going on? Trying to ask just that, Jarod moved closer to Tyler. Ignoring him, as if he weren’t there, Tyler appeared to be on a mission, vigorously stroking his c**k as c*m dribbled out. He had a crazed look in his eyes, and he was practically incoherent—screaming, begging Jarod to help him as he continued rubbing himself long after his c**k went dry. The night turned endless. With Jarod trying to think of what drug would cause such a side effect, he stood helpless, watching as Tyler endured more pain than anyone should.